


The Descent To Hell Is Easy

by Baratomaya, pennedgalaxy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Revenge, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baratomaya/pseuds/Baratomaya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennedgalaxy/pseuds/pennedgalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Scarecrow was too late in stopping the Arkham Knight from killing Batman outside ACE Chemicals? What if Jason had won? Batman lies dead, a hollow burnt husk, and the Arkham Knight stands victorious with Robin at his mercy. His revenge has only just begun and he intends for his replacement to pay the most grave of prices, one neither of then will ever be able to come back from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The gates of hell are open night and day;  
> Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:  
> But to return, and view the cheerful skies,  
> In this the task and mighty labor lies.  
> \- Virgil: The Aeneid, Book VI

The Arkham Knight checked his head-up display to make sure it was as it should be before tapping in the controls on the copter’s control system. He had Batman in his sight with the weapons locked in. Once he struck, there was no going back, it’d be over. They were on a bridge, so Batman had nowhere to grapple away to, and even if he did, he had a multitude of missiles at the ready. Jason didn’t care if he even had to shoot down the rest of the bridge, taking Commissioner Gordon and the other men down with it, he would end this now!

This was it. He would finally have his vengeance. “Time to die, old man,” he growled lowly as he pressed down on the trigger.

The missiles came soaring out and he watched in satisfaction as they charged head-on right towards Batman.

The Dark Knight, maybe having expected him to get cold feet or for fate to save him in some way, only had time to flinch back with wide eyes before they collided into him, exploding on contact. Gordon yelled and tried to intervene, but it was too late. Anything they attempted would all be in vain. The old man was strong, damn near unstoppable, but not even he could survive a hit from a missile at such close proximity.

Batman...was dead.

“I did it. I goddamn did it,” Jason muttered under his breath in disbelief. “I finally got my revenge on the bastard. It’s finally over.”

It didn’t feel real to him. He’d spent practically his whole life preparing for this moment, spending every waking moment planning for the day he would return to Gotham and make Bruce pay for what he did to him. But, for it to be over with this quickly? It felt almost too good to be true.

He couldn’t help but be disappointed, having expected the old man to put up more of a fight. And, if Jason were honest, he’d wanted the truth to come out. He’d wanted Bruce to know exactly who he was and why he was killing him and taking over Gotham City.

Things hadn’t turned out that way, unfortunately, but he wouldn’t complain. The objective had always been to kill Batman and, tonight, he’d done just that.

_“Mission accomplished.”_

Steering the copter away from the bridge, Jason flew towards the ACE Chemicals factory to relay new orders to his men. Now that Batman was dead, there was a change of plans.

Landing, he kicked open the door to the copter and jumped out, marching towards his militia.

"Sergeant, Batman is dead and Gotham is now ours. I'm ordering you to destroy the Cloudburst device immediately.”

A cheer rang out from the militia at the news that their commander, the Arkham Knight, had slain the Batman and that the battle for Gotham had ended in their favour. A few were disappointed that they never had a chance to test out their new, improved tech more, but this was short-lived. They were mercenaries; there’d be another time, another place, and another mission.

"Roger, Sir.” The sergeant did a salute. “And what of Scarecrow, Penguin and the rest?"

Jason chuckled darkly. "What about them? They were all but a means to an end, but, now that Batman’s dead, they've outlived their usefulness. As of now, they are the enemy, Sergeant, so order all units to capture every single one of them and round them up at our headquarters. Alert me when you have and I’ll dispose of them.”

“Right away, Sir,” The man nodded.

“Good.” Jason went to leave, but stopped as he remembered he was forgetting something. “Oh, and Sergeant? Should you or the rest of the men happen to see any 'civilians' roaming Gotham’s streets, shoot them on sight.”

“This is _my_ city now and I aim to clean it up better than Batman ever could,” he growled as he marched away.

* * *

A loud noise erupted from the Watchtower mainframe, a noise Barbara had never wanted to hear. Looking to the screen she gave an angry, mournful gasp as the life signs on Bruce’s suit gave out, signifying the end of his life.

“Tim!” Barbara exclaimed, her voice frantic and her eyes wide in surprise beneath her glasses as she opened up a communications link with Robin. “Bruce. Bruce is...gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Tim questioned, his tone was concerned and Barbara could practically hear his frown.

“I’m not reading anything from his suit, his life signs are non-existent. Tim, he’s dead.”

Tim swore, looked away from Barbara's piercing gaze on the holographic interface, and punched a nearby wall. His gauntlet took most of the blow, but he’d be feeling that punch tomorrow morning. He shook his head, he couldn't believe that Bruce was dead, Bruce wouldn't go down that easy and he wouldn't believe such a claim until he saw evidence. “He’s not dead until we see a body, Barb.” Tim paused and flexed his fingers, the pain numbing them a little, yet it helped keep him focused. “Did he get the hostages out?”

“No.” Barbara told him, her fingers clacking against the keyboard. “Tim, I don’t want to do this but…” Her tone was reluctant and obviously strained but they both knew that they had no time to spare.

Tim nodded, already knowing what she was going to say. “You need me to go in there.” He paused, his eyes discerning and thoughtful across the holographic screen. “If Bruce is still alive someone needs to get him and the hostages out.” He gave an aggravated sigh. “I’m heading out. Send Dick the coordinates, if they managed to take out Batman I’m going to need the backup.”

“Dick might not get there in time, Tim.” Barbara warned, her eyes locked on her screen. “You might need to go in alone.”

Tim nodded gravely, exited the movie theater and fired his grapple skyward. “I know, Barb,” he told her, his voice as soothing as he could make it in a situation like this.

“Be careful, Tim,” she pleaded. “I can’t lose you too.” 

“I will, I promise.” He replied before shutting off communication.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive at ACE Chemicals. He could see why Barbara was worried; the place was full of tanks and men armed with high caliber weaponry.Tim surveyed his surrounding and his eyes widened when they caught sight of the Batmobile parked just outside of the entrance. The worst was yet to come, however, when he heard the distinct sound of a cape flapping in the wind. 

He looked down and a couple of meters ahead of the Batmobile was a slight charred body. It was only barely recognizable by the Bat symbol blatantly displayed on its chest. Tim jumped down and raced to Batman’s side.“Batman!” He called out. “Batman, dammit, wake up!” He said, his hands reaching out to turn Bruce over.

What he saw next would haunt Tim’s dreams forever; Bruce’s face was badly burnt, the cowl having melted during the impact of the blast. Despite that, Tim’s hands sought out the elder man’s pulse point. His fruitless hopes were dashed, however, when he felt not even a single heartbeat.

“No…” He whispered, hanging his head. His eyes filled up with tears, trying to come to terms with the death of his mentor, until his grief got the better of him and he was pounding his fist over and over on the ground. “No, no, no, _NO!_ ”

It wasn’t fair! Bruce hadn’t deserved to go out in such a way. After everything the man had been through and done in his tenure as Batman. After the incident at Arkham Asylum and the events of Arkham City, _this_ was how it ended? It couldn’t be! Batman couldn’t die; he was supposed to keep on fighting until the very end. 

But the truth was staring him right in the eyes and, much as Tim hated to, he would have to accept facts. Batman was dead. He, Barb, Alfred, and Nightwing were all that was left now.

Wiping his eyes, Tim placed his hand over Bruce’s face, closing his eyes, and then stood up. He’d come back for the body once he was finished. Bruce’s death couldn’t be helped, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to let Alfred give him a befitting send-off.

“I won’t let you down, Bruce. I’ll keep fighting. Always.” He murmured, voice thick with emotion. “We all will. I promise, we’ll never stop protecting Gotham City.”

Taking a deep breath, he entered the Batmobile, ready to drive it from the bridge and straight into ACE Chemicals. Given how an outright confrontation would be nothing less than suicide, a stealth mission would be the best course of action if he wanted to rescue the hostages and take down whoever was responsible for the militia and Batman’s death.

He moved through the militia’s forces like a knife through butter. He moved with the desperation of an incredibly angry man and he didn’t pull any of his punches, any man that got in his way was sure to leave with at least a couple of broken bones. And those that held the hostages, however, would be needing more extensive health care to cover the injuries he had given them. It was blatant bending of Batman’s protocol - usually he was supposed to limit the amount of damage he gave to his enemies – however tonight he found them undeserving of too much mercy.

Tim was surprised by the lack of interference when he managed to get the only living hostages to the Batmobile. He had been expecting a stronger show of force. Had the Arkham Knight left after killing Bruce? Where was he now? He had managed to get the two hostages inside the car and delivered to Gordon. It was when he went back for Bruce’s body that the situation took a more dangerous turn. More tanks had managed to surround Tim, seemingly coming from thin air.

From a low hanging aircraft a man descended, his body covered in armor from head to toe. He wore a mask that covered his entire face; his eyes were merely two glowing points in the darkness of Gotham city. 

Tim was surrounded; even with the Batmobile it was unlikely he’d make it of this alive.

When Jason saw that their ‘guest’ was none other than Batman’s sidekick, Robin, he felt anticipation build up inside him. He’d been _waiting_ for this moment ever since the clown had informed him of his replacement. Waiting to right this wrong - this _leech_ that should never have existed.

Chuckling under his breath at his luck tonight, he strolled towards the young man at a leisurely place, a stark contrast to the former’s battle stance.

“Keep your guns trained on him, boys.” he ordered his militia. “The second he looks like he’s going to run or attack, you have my permission to open fire. Do not underestimate him or take your eyes off him for a second. Remember, he may be a joke, but he was still personally trained by Batman. He’s no doubt got a couple of tricks up his sleeve. They always do. It’s what makes Robin so effective. The enemy only cares about taking down Batman; they never take Robin seriously, so they never see it coming when he strikes.”

The military commander looked back at Tim Drake “Isn’t that right?”

He smirked when the brave front the kid had put up wavered ever so slightly, his shock betraying him.

“I’ve been waiting for this night for a long, long time. Killing the old man was always my first priority, but meeting with you, face-to-face, and then ending you and everything you represent was my second.” He began advancing forward, eyes locked on Tim. “And, just so we’re clear, this is personal. _Very_ personal.”  

“I don’t know who you are.” Tim growled. “But I’m really going to enjoy putting you in a full body cast.”

Tim wondered why this man had wanted to kill Bruce, why meeting him had been a part of this plan. Why did the Arkham Knight want to kill them? Had they fought him before tonight? Had he once been a regular thug?

No. He’d managed to kill Batman; he had to be someone more important than that.

“Whatever your plans are, we’re going to stop them.”

Whilst the Arkham Knight circled him predatorily, Tim pushed a button on the inside of his gauntlet, allowing Barbara to listen in on the conversation. With any hope, Dick would arrive just in time to bail him out. If not, Tim would at least supply him and Barbara with enough information as he could.

“Big words coming from a now redundant, glorified assistant.” Jason jeered, not the least bit put out by Robin’s threat. “You are cornered on all sides by my men and you don’t stand a chance in hell of escaping or fighting back. I think we both know who’s won here.”

Tim gave a rough exhale, his fists clenching at his sides. “Go on then, kill me, it’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” His posture changed as if daring the other man to make a move. “It’s what you want, right?” He continued in an angered growl.

 He didn’t really think that was the case, at least not fully anyway. Why go to all the trouble to corner him when he could’ve shot a dozen or so missiles at him? He probably wanted to gloat, or something of the like. Yes, the Arkham Knight may end up killing him but, in the meantime, Tim could still gather information for the others to use against him.

“Oh, I will kill you, boy, but in my own good time.” Jason stopped pacing around the Boy Wonder and came to a stop before him, arms crossed. “First, I want to do something that I’ve been dying to do the second I laid eyes on you.”

Striking so fast Robin had barely any time to react; he punched him hard in the gut, knocking the air right out of his lungs. He then brought his elbow down on the kid’s back with the intention of sending him toppling to the ground and, with any luck, smashing his face on the cold ground below.

“Come on, fight me!” Jason yelled, glaring down at his successor. “Show me why the old man chose you. I want to see what he saw.”

He paused, grabbing Tim by the neck of his suit, giving him an angry shake, before throwing him down again. “I want to know what makes you so damn special! Why everyone thinks you’re better.”

Tim caught himself, his hand splayed across the hood of the Batmobile, as he glared at the Arkham Knight intently from beneath his lashes. He brought a hand up to wipe his mouth free of a stray piece of spittle. Tim frowned. What exactly did he mean by that? It sounded as if he had known Bruce or something like that. At the very least, it sounded personal and perhaps a tad vindictive, the former he had said as much himself. But, if this man wanted to give him a beating, so be it. It would only give Dick more time to arrive.

Tim gave an angry smirk and said two words he would quickly come to regret. “Fuck you.”

The military leader’s hands bunched up into fists and, for a second, it seemed as if the Arkham Knight was about to deliver the mother of all beatdowns. Tim braced himself, expecting a flurry of punches and kicks to rain down mercilessly upon his body.

However, that didn’t happen.

Shockingly, the Knight paused as if deep in thought and then said, in a calm voice that was even more disconcerting to Tim than if he’d yelled, “That can be arranged, Replacement.”

Tim stilled, a cold dread settling in his stomach. “No.” He said, his voice low. “Touch me and I will _kill_ you.” He threatened, his voice sounded weak and foolish, even to his own ears. The Arkham Knight couldn’t possibly want to... _rape_ him, could he?

No, he couldn’t possibly want that. The brief information that they had about him hadn’t indicated such a tendency and, even if he did, Tim wasn’t going to let that happen. He would fight tooth and nail if he had to. 

Jason removed his gun from its holster and, aiming right at Robin’s face, cocked it back.

“Will you now? Go on then, I dare you. You’ll be dead before you can even land a finger on me,” he sneered, knowing full well he wouldn’t. Not when there was still a fighting chance, a possibility he’d be able to turn things around. “And, before you start getting any ideas, I’m not a rapist. But, for you, I’ll make an exception. Know why?”

For the former Robin turned Arkham Knight, it was all about breaking his replacement and sending out a message to those who might try to oppose him. For too long he’d had to hear how Tim Drake was doing a better job than he’d ever done and, tonight, he was going to prove them all wrong. Tonight he was going to make everyone see exactly why they shouldn't fuck with him. 

He would completely eradicate the mantel that was Robin. He would do what Bruce should have done after he went missing and retire it to the same darkness Batman came from and had now returned to.

“I don’t know, because you’re a deplorable human being with absolutely no morals?” Tim hissed, his eyes glancing shiftily at the gun.

He could probably get out a shuriken and lodge it in the barrel of the gun, but that still wouldn’t deal with the threat the militia posed. Plus it would, more than likely, set those twitchy trigger fingers off. Whether the Arkham Knight ordered them to or not, his men probably wanted rid of him as soon as possible. It was only because the Arkham Knight wanted him alive, at least for now, that they hadn’t put a bullet in between his eyes.

“Or,” Tim began, “Because my cape really offsets my eyes?” He continued, a half-hearted smirk dancing on his lips. 

The Knight reacted by pistol-whipping him across the face and then delivering a roundhouse kick, square on the jaw. Hard enough to hurt like hell, to split his lip, but not enough to knock him out.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d love it if I was as bad as the Joker, Penguin, or the rest of the scum that run rampant in this city. Then you could be just like Bruce and act all high and mighty, like you’re any better.”

Bending down, so they were both on eye level, Jason explained softly, “I’m doing this because this is _justice_ . You deserve this for what you did to me, for what you _stole_ from me. And I’m doing it to make a point. You are not better than me, Tim Drake, and the mantle of Robin can be killed just like Batman was and I’m going to prove that tonight.”

“But, first,” Jason stood up back to his full height, towering over the defenseless Boy Wonder. “Is Barbara listening in?”

Pain filled Tim, his face throbbing with it and his tongue tingling with the taste of his own blood. He gave a rough cough, blood splattering to the floor as he did so, although he stilled at the mercenary’s question.His heart beat at a staggering pace. He _knew_. Knew about Bruce, himself and Barbara. How on earth could he possibly know?

It took a second for the rest of Arkham Knight’s words to settle inside Tim’s skull. Stole? What did he mean stole?

Suddenly something dawned on him, something huge and something he had thought impossible. He had been taught to follow his instincts, and they screamed at him, whispered to him the name of a man they had all thought dead. His eyes widened and he looked up at the Arkham Knight with a mixture of fear and surprise, but mostly surprise, he would attest. 

“You’re…” He began before giving a painful wheezy cough. “You’re Jason Todd, aren’t you?!”


	2. Chapter 2

The Arkham Knight didn’t say anything at first and, for a second, Tim felt relief. Relief that his gut instinct was wrong, that it wasn’t really his predecessor standing before him now, a fallen hero with blood on his hands. He _wanted_ to be wrong - hell, he’d even take Clayface, just anyone but Jason Todd.

And then the Knight begun to laugh and he felt his heart sink because he knew right then and there that he’d got it right.

Jason Todd, the second Robin and a good soldier...was the Arkham Knight.

“Took you long enough, Replacement. I have to admit, I’m kind of disappointed. I was planning to make you guess my identity. If you’d got it wrong, I’d have put a bullet in your brain instead. Oh well, either way, I still win in the end.”

Done dealing with Drake - _for now_ \- Jason decided it was time he had a chat with another member of the old gang. 

Bringing his boot down against Robin’s chest, he crushed him to the ground. His other foot planted itself firmly on the side of the young man’s face, grinding it as hard as he could against the concrete. Reaching down, he grabbed Drake’s arm and pulled it up so it was near to his face. From there, it took him no time at all to hack in and open up the communications link to Oracle.

“Barbara, it's been a while.” Jason smirked. “I’m guessing you heard all that?”

Tim groaned in pain and watched as Barbara’s face appeared before him, the holographic interface letting him look upon the face of the woman he loved.

“Don’t. Don’t touch him.” Barbara began, her voice heavy, her eyes full with tears, both angry and sad. “Jason, we can work this out, we can talk about this.”

Tim didn’t think Jason was up for a lengthy discussion, and, by the looks of things, he was too far gone for that. He’d killed Bruce, allowed his men to kill innocent civilians, and was threatening to _rape_ him. Any chance at conversation had died around about the time Bruce had. This man wasn’t one that could be reasoned with or swayed, this was the kind of man that killed whoever crossed him and took whatever he wanted.

This wasn’t the Jason Todd that Alfred had spoken about.

Tim gave a growl, his eyes glaring up at Jason from underneath his foot. Whatever happened tonight he, at least, wouldn’t go out without a fight.

Jason gave the former Batgirl a fond, almost melancholic smile. “There is nothing to talk about, Barbara. This is between me and my Replacement. If I were you, I’d shut off all communications so you don’t have to hear what I’m going to do to him.” A psychotic grin suddenly came over his face (not that anyone could see it). “...Or don’t, if you’re into that kind of thing. I know some of my men are.”

“ _Dammit, Jason, this is not a joke!_ ” Barbara yelled out in frustration, banging her fist down on the keyboard.

The smile left Jason’s face. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. You have to understand, my sense of humour has become what you might call somewhat _twisted_. Spending half a year locked away in Arkham Asylum, being tortured in ways you cannot imagine by The Joker will do that to you. Tell me, what lies did Bruce feed you and Alfred?”

“The Joker sent us a video of you being _shot_ , Jason!” Barbara told him, her voice a plea for him to stop. “We thought you were dead, we mourned you - _I_ mourned you. Please, don’t do this. What you’re doing, it’s wrong. You’ve already killed Bruce; you don’t need to hurt Tim. You touch him and you’re no better than the Rogues, no better than the rapists you used to help put away!”

Jason gritted his teeth. His grip on Robin’s arm tightened, ignoring any discomfort it caused the younger man.

Everything she said about there being no need to hurt Tim Drake was right. Jason would be the first admit that his hostility towards him was solely to do with his own feelings of insecurity and betrayal. That, though this _was_ personal, the kid hadn’t actually done anything to warrant his hate. But her comments about Bruce? That he would not stand for. He would not be told that he was in the wrong here, that his revenge was unfounded. Not when he’d spent damn near his whole life planning it, not when he’d just succeeded in killing the man!

“ _Don’t lie to me!_ Don’t justify what that man did to me! He deserved everything he got and, if I have one regret about _any_ of this, it’s that I didn’t get to make him suffer the way I did!”

His voice underlying his inner turmoil, Jason said softly. “He _abandoned_ me, Barbara. I trusted him and he left me there to rot. With that _monster_. He didn’t even wait a year to replace me, he just gave up on me the second I was gone and got himself a new Robin. Does that sound fair to you?”

“How is any of that Tim’s fault?” Barbara replied, her face hardening and her brows furrowing. Her fists clenched, resting atop her chair’s wheels as her voice wavered. “He was a teen, just like you were. He only wanted to help Gotham, but you’d punish him for Bruce’s sins? You’d punish someone who you never even knew, someone who respected, even idolised you, back when you were Robin?”

Unlike Barbara, he didn’t think the Arkham Knight could be swayed. He was clearly set on this path. The only thing Tim could do now was limit the casualties. “Barb…” Tim groaned. “I’m sorry,” he paused, his eyes averting hers. “Turn off your comlink,” he told her, his voice begging her to do as asked. “I don’t want you to see what happens next.”

The Arkham Knight stomped his foot down on his chest, silencing him. “Shut up! Both of you just _shut up!_ ” He yelled, burying his face in his hands.

Jason felt sick. The guilt and doubts he’d buried long ago when he first partnered with Scarecrow was now resurfacing, whilst the maniacal laughter of that damn clown started to invade his mind. He didn’t understand. Today was supposed to be his day of vindication, when he purified Gotham and punished the man who wronged him. It was supposed to feel right, like justice had been served. Not like this. Not like _he_ was the bad guy, like he’d made a huge mistake.

Had he? Was Barbara actually in the right rather than misguided when she said Bruce had cared about him, had believed him dead and grieved for him? And, all the effort, all the innocent people he’d had to step on to get his revenge, had it all been for nothing? Had he really become just as bad as the criminals he wished to wipe out?

No. He wouldn’t believe it. He _couldn’t_.

He was the truth. He was justice.

He was the Arkham Knight.

Jason Todd was but a mask, a ghost. He was Gotham’s new saviour, far better and far more ruthless than Batman ever was. He would bring death to those who deserved to die, those who the world would be a better place without. And, to those who stood in his way of doing what was right...he’d bring death to them as well. 

Getting a hold of himself, he hardened his resolve before turning his attentions back to his former ally.

“Nice try, Barbara. You’re good, almost had me going for a second there. Don’t worry; I don’t blame you for lying. If I were in your shoes, I’d have done the exact same thing.”

When the redhead went to protest, he interrupted. "There’s nothing you can say or do that will make me change my mind, so don’t waste your breath. Sparing him is out of the question. It would be seen as a sign of weakness, by my men and the rest of the criminals in Gotham, and I know for a fact that the two of you and Grayson wouldn’t let it end there. It’s not in your nature, just like it isn’t mine to watch scum be allowed to hurt the innocent over and over again and do nothing about like the old man did.”

His cold, merciless gaze stared down at Tim Drake, who he no longer had pinned under his heel. "I need to send a message. And Robin needs to die. After tonight, Gotham will never see or hear of the Boy Wonder again. He dies with Batman.”

"Goodbye, Barbara," Jason said, a finality in his tone that made it clear this would be the last time they spoke.

* * *

Knowing it would break her heart to watch Tim suffer, Barbara cut their communication link. She could only hope Dick would arrive before Jason could hurt Tim too much.

“Dick!” She exclaimed, her fingers moving at sped as she opened up their link. “I need you to hurry; the situation has gone critical over at ACE. Robin’s in some serious trouble.”

Over the sound of a motorbike’s screeching tires, and the sound of heavy wind resistance, Nightwing’s voice could be heard. "I'm thirty, maybe forty, minutes out from location."

“I don’t think he’ll last that long.” Barbara told him, her voice was grave, her shoulders stiff and her jaw was clenched. Jason had changed, had become a desperate kind of vindictive, whatever he was going to do to Tim was going to be painful, in more than one way if what he'd said about his plans had been true.

Nightwing cursed, biting his bottom lip nervously he upped his speed as high as he good feasibly maneuver. He sure as hell wasn’t going to lose another Robin. “Give me a rundown of the situation.”

“Batman’s gone, confirmed dead, and Robin’s surrounded by at least sixteen heavily armed assailants and their leader; the Arkham Knight.” Barbara paused after, her body language tense.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

“We have a confirmed ID on the Knight…” The woman began.

“That’s good-” 

Barbara shook her head. “No, no it’s not,” she said through gritted teeth. “Dick, it’s Jason. The Arkham Knight is Jason.”

Dick’s eyes widened beneath the mask. “ _Shit._ ”

* * *

Tim glared up at the Arkham Knight, no, Jason Todd. His heart was beating at a frantic pace, his mind racing to find a way out of this situation. But, there wasn’t one, he was surrounded. If he made a single move to run or attack, they’d shoot him.

“God, if they could see you now. If _Alfred_ could see you now he’d be disgusted. You’re about to become all the things he despises most.” Tim spat, his blood landing on the Arkham Knight’s suit.

The mercenary commander responded with a sharp boot to the chest, the force enough to crack a few of the young man’s ribs.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to talk, Replacement!” Jason barked, though he was more shaken by Drake’s accusation than he let on. 

Throughout it all, his love for Bruce’s butler, Alfred Pennyworth, had never faltered once. He had to be the one person Jason would never hurt or say a bad word against. The elderly butler hating and shunning him as a result of his actions tonight was nothing short of his greatest fear. He didn’t know what he’d do if that happened…

Forcing any thoughts of Alfred far from his mind, he brought his hand up to the transmitters on his helmet. “Sergeant, I’m ordering you and all units to clear out and continue forth with the plan to occupy Gotham. I want to be alone for this.”

“Are you sure, Sir?”

“Robin is no threat to anyone, let alone me. Now go. You and the rest of the men have been given your orders and I expect you to put the training I gave you to good use and make it happen. Remember, Sergeant, failure is not an option. ROLLOUT!”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” The Sergeant replied.

Jason watched as the tanks and aircraft moved out and sped away back into Gotham City, leaving him and Robin the only occupants on the damaged bridge that once lead into ACE Chemicals Plant.

Not wanting to prolong things any longer, he strode back to the beaten superhero and jabbed his boot into the young man’s side. “Get up! On your knees!”

Tim growled, but thinking it best to follow the man’s commands, at least for now, did as he was told and rose to his knees. His shoulders were tense and his eyes were fierce as he watched the Arkham Knight circle him, as if wondering what to do with him. As he knelt there all he could do was try to ignore the pain. Jason had given him a quite beating in between the revelations, arguments, pleading and, as loathe as he was to admit it, he was at his mercy.

His hands balled into fists at the very thought of what was to come. “You’re not going to get away with this,” he hissed, not quite believing his own words.

Jason didn’t believe it either, laughing in his face as if he were one, big joke. “Oh really? Look around you, Replacement, I already have! Batman is dead and Gotham City is at my mercy.”

In quick, large strides, the Arkham Knight invaded Tim’s personal space, coming to a stop only once his crotch was literally right in front of his face. He tried to back away, but the mercenary reached out and placed both gloved hands on the side of his head, forcing him to stop and face him.

“You've got quite the mouth on you. Why don't you put it to better use?”

Tim frowned at Jason’s crotch. “You’re sick, you know that?” He told him, baring his teeth. He wasn’t going to make this easy for him, he wasn’t just going to lie down and take it. “You put anything near my mouth and you won’t be getting it back in one piece.”

Jason wrapped his hand around the kid’s throat, tight and intrusive, but not enough that it cut off all intake of oxygen completely. “You hurt me in anyway or try or escape, Replacement, and I _will_ make your death a slow, painful one. And, if you really piss me off, I’ll see to it that they never find your body,” he warned, voice low and terrifyingly brutal.

Adjusting his utility belt so it was further up on his waist, leaving his lower half completely free, he pulled down the zipper of his military trousers, pulling out his hardening member.

Tim’s eyes widened and he flinched at the sight of Jason’s cock. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn't believe what he was going to do, if only to prolong the inevitable, if only to stall for time. 

A flush of shame coloured his cheeks as he bent his head down to lick at Jason’s slit, his mouth wrapping around the head. First he would need to get it wet and hard, then he could see what he had to work with - it was all about his comfort and not about Jason’s pleasure. Tim knew if he tried to take all of it at once he would only gag, and he doubted the Arkham Knight wanted him to be sick all over him.

Starting a slow suck, his tongue working in tandem, but quickly he gave a surprised growl and clenched his fists when he felt it twitch inside his mouth. _Of course_ Jason would be getting off of this, he had been aroused before Tim had even begun.

A part of Tim itched to bite down on Jason, make him feel some serious pain, but he knew all too well how that would end. He wasn’t going to throw his life away, not when Jason had the potential and the willingness to harm innocent civilians. He was simply going to have brave this humiliation and hope that Nightwing showed up before it could go any further.

Jason said nothing, watching as Tim Drake wrapped his lips around his dick and carefully, slowly, began to lick and suck him off. He held back a groan. It’d been ages since he’d received a good blowjob.

When he caught sight of the furious yet powerless look in Drake’s eyes, it took all his restraint not to grab a hold of kid’s head and just fuck his face without a care. He _wanted_ to, but decided it’d be more gratifying and humiliating to make Drake participate instead. If he face-fucked him, he’d just end up sitting there and taking it, but, this way, he’d actually have to put some effort into it.

“Keep going, Replacement,” he urged as the Boy Wonder’s tongue slowed to an almost maddening pace. “Don’t you dare think of stopping.”

Tim closed his eyes and an eternity seemed to pass as he tried to block out Jason’s sounds, his grunts, growls and how his suit squeaked and clanked as he moved his hips minutely. He swirled his tongue around the head, poking at the slit. Occasionally he detached his mouth, only to lick down the length of Jason’s cock, taking care to prod at the other man’s perineum when he got the chance.

With a blush now fully fixed on his face, as well as a deep scowl, he took the other man’s member deeper inside and began to suck rhythmically. He felt Jason’s hips buck and the movement caused Jason’s cock to move into his throat. Tim barely restrained a gag as he felt pre-come bloom on the tip of his tongue.

Jason rested his hands lightly on Drake’s head as he let out even more sighs and hums of arousal and pleasure. He had gone from a passive observer to thrusting back and forth into Robin’s mouth at a careful, measured pace. He closed his eyes, wanting Drake to go faster and harder.

Ignoring his own disgust, Tim began to suck harder and, to gain a little control of his own, started to bob his head in time with Jason’s thrusts. Yet again he tasted Jason’s slick and, instead of recoiling like last time, he used it to his advantage, allowing it to paint the inside of his throat. Using the new found lubrication, he took Jason’s length into his throat. Breathing through his nose, he gave a hum around it; it wouldn't be long now until Jason orgasmed, at least from what Tim could deduce from his tense limbs and rocking hips.

If Tim Drake had hair for Jason to grasp onto, he would surely have been tugging at it now as he felt the pressure inside him begin to mount and mount. He was so close to reaching his climax…

Through lust-filled, lidded eyes, Jason gazed down at the unbelievable sight that was his replacement essentially deep-throating him, and moaned. He started to move his hips at a more erratic, rougher pace as he started to lose himself completely. In that moment, he didn’t give a damn if Drake gagged or struggled to take him. If anything, it would only turn him on more.  

“You suck dick like a pro, Replacement,” he goaded. “Either you’re getting into this, or this isn’t your first time getting down on both knees for another guy.”

“Who was it?” He demanded, his pace speeding up. “Was it Grayson? Or Bruce? That how you spend your days as Robin, Replacement? Sucking Batman’s dick like the obedient little bitch you are? Heh, I _wish_ the old man was alive and here to see this. I’d love to see the look on his face as he watched me take what’s his and  _make it mine._ ”

He clamped his hands down on Drake’s head as he finally reached his limit and came, his seed quickly filling up the inside of the young man’s mouth.

“Swallow,” he growled, his grip unrelenting. “Swallow every last drop.”

Tim choked and tried to pull his head from Jason’s grip, but Jason’s hands merely tightened in warning and Tim knew that struggling against this, fighting it, would be to no avail. He glared at Jason; his eyes were furious and, in them, was the look of someone who, if he could, would beat the other man to a bloody pulp.

He shivered at the feeling of warm ejaculate sliding down his throat. Swallowing, his hands shook in rage.Why wasn’t Dick here yet? Had something happened to him? Was he even alive, or was he dead like Bruce? He’d managed to stall Jason for some time, but he’d finished now. If Dick didn’t arrive soon anything could happen. Jason could kill him, ridding Gotham of the dynamic duo once and for all.

Feeling Jason soften in his mouth he yanked his head away; he coughed to clear his sore throat and took deep, gasping breaths as he did so. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stared at Jason, observing him, waiting for a moment of weakness he could exploit.

“Good job, Replacement. I didn’t expect much, but I have to hand it to you, you proved me wrong,” Jason remarked, though it was obvious from the tone of his voice that his praise was not the least bit sincere. 

And then, to add insult to injury, he remarked, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Barbara. It’ll be our little secret.”

Hands on his hips, Jason turned away from Robin and surveyed the Batmobile, a smirk replacing his stern expression as he was filled with a twisted sense of excitement and lust.

Foreplay done, it was time to move onto the main show.


	3. Chapter 3

“Don’t get comfortable, Replacement, I’m not finished with you just yet,” Jason warned.

Tim growled. “What?” He questioned, his voice low. “You can’t be fucking serious!” This night had already been traumatic enough, did Jason still want to want to rape him? Truly? Was it to take the rest of his dignity? Because, if so, he had pretty much already taken all that there had been.

Despite the potential danger, Tim rose from his knees and stared Jason in the eye.

He wanted to hurt him so much, to beat him to a bloody pulp for what he’d done, or even run for that matter, but with those guns at his side and Tim’s own injuries, he wouldn’t get very far. At this point he had given up on the idea of Dick arriving in time. He had accepted that he was probably going to die tonight. It was what could potentially happen before then that worried him. Some things, he was keenly aware of, were worse than death. Jason, at least in part, was proof enough of that.

“I think you know what I want,” was all Jason said, and, if the grave, frighteningly cold look on his face was anything to go by, it was clear to Tim that, yes, he wasn’t joking in the least.

Jason’s raised an eyebrow at the young man’s bewildered look. “What? You really thought I was going to let it end there? That a simple BJ was going to satisfy me?” He scoffed under his breath. “Don’t be stupid. I said I was going to fuck you and I intend to make good on my threat. Only then will I be certain that my message has been received, loud and clear.”

He pointed at the Batmobile. “Now, walk your ass over to the old man’s car and bend over it.”

“No.” Tim replied, his voice steady and resolute. “You want me over that car? You’re going to have force me because I am not some willing fucking participant!” He hissed. Jason was sick, twisted even, but Tim hadn’t expected him to be quite this fucked up. Fuck him over the Batmobile? Whilst Bruce’s corpse lay inside the passenger compartment?

“I’m sorry about what happened you,” Tim began. “But do you really think that gives you a free pass to murder, to rape anyone you please? Because you know what, that makes you exactly like them, worse even, because you used to be one of us!”

Jason’s eyes widened at the kid’s fighting spirit, momentarily taken aback, before his temper all too quickly got the better of him.

“Fine, have it your way.” He replied through gritted teeth.

Acting on impulse, he lunged forward and head-butted Robin as hard as he could. Thanks to his Arkham Knight visor, he felt nothing. The same, however, could not be said for Tim Drake, who he’d made sure to hit with enough force that the pain would be blinding.

Jason watched as Drake stumbled back, falling clumsily to the wet cold concrete below. Once he was sure that he was too disoriented to attack or defend himself he made his move, grabbing him by his waist and hoisting him up over his shoulders, carrying him over to where the Batmobile was parked.

“I want you to remember, when I have you pinned down on the hood of the car that used to belong to Batman, taking away everything that you represent, that I gave you the choice to do this the easy way. You brought this on yourself, Replacement, not me.” Jason stated, slamming the dazed and injured Drake down hard against the Batmobile, uncaring when his head smacked against the unrelenting metal with a painful ‘thack’. “And, for your information, I don’t think I have a free pass to murder or rape anyone. Well,” he snickered, “heh, not so much murder. We both know I will not hesitate to kill anyone who I think deserves it or stands in my way, but, as far as rape goes…”

He bent forward and whispered lowly, his synthesized voice so deep it almost sounded demonic, “Just you, Replacement. Just you.”

Tim groaned, his head throbbing and his mind feeling on the bad side of fuzzy. He tried to bat at Jason’s hands to no avail, and he gave a hiss when he felt the man’s fingers slide beneath his armor plating. His hands were rough, calloused, and warm, and, in his mind, he felt revulsion. His body, however, disagreed, enjoying the sensation of touch. It was a physical and mental disconnect of the most treacherous kind.

He felt a distant type of horror when the top half of his suit was removed from his person. He hadn’t anticipated just how vulnerable he would feel.

Opening his mouth, ready to scream all types of obscenities, he gave a cut off choke when he felt one of Jason’s hands rub roughly, and then pinch at one of his nipples, rolling it between his fingers. Tim’s green eyes widened, in them a mixture of fear and anger on display. Was Jason intending to make his body enjoy this assault? Wasn’t it cruel enough that he was doing this to begin with?

“Get off of me!” He tried to protest with a strong, angry, voice, but it simply came out as something of a love child between a hiss and a slur.

“I don’t take orders from anyone, let alone you, Replacement,” Jason replied callously, not stopping. “Now do yourself a favour and shut up and accept that this is happening. Or not, I really couldn’t care less.”

Slowly, methodically, coolly, the Arkham Knight continued to work over his captive, exploring Tim Drake’s body and preparing him for what was to come. His fingers prodded and probed the young man’s toned chest, tracing a pattern on his back and gliding up and down his chest, stopping just short of his abdomen.

Eventually, he stopped, though only to open one of the numerous pouches on his utility belt and pull out his grapple gun.

Taking aim, he shot at the turret of the Batmobile (Drake had foolishly left it locked in Battle Mode. He’d regret that soon enough), waiting for the hook to latch onto it. Once that was done, he extended the rope and, grabbing Drake’s wrists with one hand, pinned them as high as they would go on the hood before binding them with the rope of his grapple gun.

Jason stood back and smirked at his handiwork.

Tim Drake lay there, splayed against Bruce’s precious Batmobile whilst his upper half dangled, completely at his mercy. He was his for the taking and there was nothing he could do about it. It was almost scary to the military commander how much of a rush, a sick kind of glee, such a thought evoked within him and, for a second, Jason considered letting Tim Drake go, though he dismissed it immediately after. In times like these, when he found himself feeling sympathetic or having a sudden attack of conscience, he’d found the best way to keep them at bay was just to remind himself that the object of his wrath deserved it. Mercy was too good for them.

“I should warn you, Replacement,” he said, as soon as the young man weakly tried in vain to escape. “My grapple gun also doubles as a taser. Meaning, you try anything and I will fry you without hesitation, just like I did the Ratcatcher. Yeah, that was me.” He nodded his head, proud. “Same for the Electrocutioner, and Tweedledee and Tweedledum. You’re welcome.”

By now Tim was more than a little aware of the fact he was probably, very likely, concussed - a couple of hard knocks to the head tended to do that - but he paused when Jason’s words finally processed through his mind. He clenched his fists and pulled at his restraints, his mouth curling in a snarl when he was unable to loosen his bindings.

“Personally, I would’ve preferred a fruit basket instead of a chargrilled lunatic, but I guess it’s the thought that counts, right?” He quipped; bravado in the face of what would most assuredly be a traumatizing experience, both mentally and physically, if Jason’s rough treatment was anything to go by.

Jason didn’t reply verbally, but Tim knew he had irritated him. It became swiftly apparent he had angered him when the man gave a deep growl and pulled Tim’s pants unceremoniously down to his ankles. All whilst Tim was kicking his legs incessantly, hoping to dislodge or injure him.

Tim’s eyes narrowed when he saw Jason’s hand moving towards his jockstrap. He bucked and tried to shimmy across the hood, his hands dangling uselessly above his head as he tried to get away from the other man’s touch. Once Jason got rid of that protective article of clothing, Tim’s lower half would be bare to him, all bets would be off, and Jason could do anything to him. Naturally, Tim wasn’t exactly pleased at the idea.

Today, by all accounts, was quickly turning out to be the worst day of his life. It only got even worse when Jason pulled off his facial covering and, with his mouth free, shot forward, his lips colliding with Tim’s own. The other man’s tongue forced his lips open and ultimately distracted him enough so that Jason could remove his jock.

Tim gave a furious grunt and, in retaliation, bit Jason’s lip, drawing blood that he spat at the face presented to him.

Jason tensed up, once again astounded by the kid’s total refusal to submit, even knowing full well that fighting back would only make things worse for him. It wasn’t long before rage started to boil up inside him and threaten to spill over.

It’d be very easy, he reasoned, to kill Robin right here and now. Just take out his gun and paint the Batmobile red with his blood. It’d sure as hell be quicker and less hassle.

Luckily for Tim Drake - or not, depending on how you looked at it - Jason calmed himself down. It was no easy feat, but he just reasoned with himself that there was no need to lose his temper and cut things short, not now when he had the advantage.

His blue eyes shooting daggers at the bound Robin, he silently wiped the bloody spittle from his cheek.

“I’m going to give you that one for free, Replacement. But, rest assured, that will be the last one you will ever get.” He said, his voice an icy whisper. “The next time you do something like that...well, I’ll leave that one up to your imagination.”

Still, Jason wanted to be on the safe side. Despite everything he’d done and all his threats, he still didn’t trust Drake not to, in the heat of the moment, do the same thing again or something equally as bad. To decide that death would be more preferable or worth not giving him the satisfaction and try and force his hand.

With nothing on hand to gag the younger man - the gloves were gauntlets and the eye mask wholly unsuitable - Jason opted to go for the next best thing: his handgun.

Tim gave a hiss at the feeling of cold metal being pushed between his lips and his nostrils flared in fear as he began to breathe through his nose. He, however, didn’t have long to think about the threat the gun posed before he felt a big clammy hand wrap around his cock. He gave a grunt and tried to move away from Jason’s grip, his heart hammering in his chest as he did so.

Tim’s whole body tensed when Jason began to fondle him but, before Tim could get too aroused, the man let go and flipped Tim over, the cord around his wrists twisting and his ass presented to Jason.

“Struggle all you want, Replacement, you’re not going anywhere,” He heard Jason say as the older man placed his arm across his back, pinning him in place.

Robin now in position, Jason’s free hand went to his already rock hard cock, pumping it a few times as he readied himself. A part of him considered lubricating himself with his saliva, if only as a small mercy, but he quickly decided against it. It wouldn’t make much of a difference; the experience would still remain a painful one for his captive.

Still, wanting to prep him up beforehand, he inserted his index finger into Drake’s hole, then inserted another.

“You’re far too tense.” Jason chided in a patronising tone, when he felt the young man stiffen at the intrusion. “This is going to hurt either way, but it'll be easier if you loosen up. Haven’t you learnt anything from the old man?”

Tim knew what Jason was referring to. During his own training, Batman had taught him that if injury was somehow inevitable then it was better to relax your muscles before impact, that it would lessen the damage in the long run. It was likely Bruce had taught Jason all those same lessons as well. But, really? How was he supposed to take that advice whilst he was about to be raped, of all things? But, if Tim was honest, there was very little he could do at this point, all he could do was try to limit the damage done to his person.

With a reluctant grunt, he forced himself to calm and for his body to un-tense. The fingers inside him were a painful ache and he knew, if he lived to see tomorrow, his hole would be a raw red in the morning. A third finger joined those inside of him; this one however was wet, perhaps as a reward for allowing this assault to occur. Tim gave a sudden and unexpected groan when he felt those fingers begin to thrust and scissor him. He felt sweat run down his spine and a low warmth he despised growing in the base of his stomach.

The fingers paused in their thrusts and Tim’s body tensed a little, as if wanting to rock back on them. A flush of mortification grew on his face at the thought.

As soon as heard the young man groan out loud, Jason stopped what he was doing and stared with narrowed eyes. He’d expected the Boy Wonder to be very verbal about his displeasure at the whole situation, gagged or not, but that noise he’d made just now did not sound like one of discomfort. Rather...

His blue eyes widened as it dawned on him what was going on with Tim Drake.

“Are you...are you enjoying this, Replacement? You like how this feels?” He questioned, now grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

He suddenly ripped the gun from Drake’s mouth. “Well? Answer me!”

Tim shook his head. “Shut up!” He exclaimed. “No, I’m not enjoying this, but it’d feel great if I did, right?” He began, his voice low and furious. “Then you’d feel oh so justified, you could almost pretend you weren’t fucking someone against their will. You could even play the good guy, but, bad news, Jason, you’re still a rapist.”

He couldn’t help the fact that the sensation was pleasing on a purely physical level, and he couldn’t help the fact his body was beginning to respond to Jason’s touch. He didn’t want this! How dare Jason accuse him of such!

“And you’re still a mouthy, self-righteous little shit.” Jason barked back.

He aimed his pistol at Drake’s lips, tapping it against his bleeding, moist lips. “Open wide, the gun is going back in. Don’t make me have to ram it down your throat.”

Thankfully, Drake did as he was told, his lips parting to accept the gun, glaring viciously at Jason all the while. Jason chuckled, patting him on the head condescendingly, as if he were a dog. “Good boy. Trust me; you’re going to need it in a second.”

Removing his fingers from inside Drake, he placed both hands on the younger man’s hips.

“You’re wrong, you know.” He announced casually, as if Tim Drake were an old friend and not his hated replacement that had wormed his way into Batman’s good graces and stole his rightful place. “You are enjoying this. You just don’t want to admit it.” Jason’s fingers dug into Drake’s flesh. “But you will. I’ll make you.” 

Tim didn’t even get a second to breathe before he felt the head of Jason’s cock prodding at his entrance. His eyes widened and he thrashed where he was pinned, fruitlessly trying to dislodge the other man’s grip.

He gave a harsh grunt as he was impaled, his teeth biting down on the barrel of the gun. He panted as he felt Jason slide the rest of his length inside of him. His arms were shaking where they hung above him and his boots squeaked as they ground into the Batmobile.

It hurt in an entirely different way than that of his various wounds and injuries. It was perhaps because of its more personal nature, and the fact he had never experienced anything like this. In all the time he had fought criminals he had seen and experienced all sorts of injuries, this however was something that had been denied to the criminals of Gotham. Tim had never anticipated someone wishing to harm him in this way. Perhaps it was an intellectual failing on his part, but still, he had never prepared himself for just how wrong it would feel, how dirty and shameful he would feel as a result.

Perhaps, shamefully he would admit, he’d thought himself above such things, that this kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to Robin. Which, when Tim considered it, was probably the whole point of this, to show Tim his own mortality and fallibility, and to humble him and bring him down to Jason’s level.

Tim would’ve continued on that line of thought, but that was exactly when Jason began to thrust.

Jason had to admit, the Boy Wonder was taking it far better than he would have given him credit for. He’d expected him to completely lose it when he took him. After all, he'd known and fucked tougher, meaner, bigger men who had been reduced to tears because it was their first time, so he wouldn't have been shocked if Drake had screamed, bawled, done anything in his power to make it stop, bindings or not.

However, far from it, he was just lying there and taking it. Not so much as a choked sob or muffled slew of profanities or protests. Jason couldn’t make up his mind whether the kid was just one tough son of a bitch or this was sign that he was right, that he was actually enjoying it in some way, but, quite frankly, he didn’t care.

He thrust again, taking care to keep it at a slow, almost gentle pace. Partly so Drake could get used to his girth, but also because, unlike his revenge on Batman, he intended to draw this out for as long as he could.

Tim tried to meditate, to forget about the cock buried deep inside of him, but that was easier said than done. He knew struggling would only increase the pain and would lessen his chance of trying, and succeeding, to ignore what was going on or dissociating from the experience entirely. He bit down on the gun, the taste of gunpowder on his tongue grounding him from the sensations. He suddenly gave a throaty groan, one that had been too quick for him to silence, against the metal when Jason’s thrusts began to speed up, become deeper and that much rougher.

Tim rubbed his cheek against the metal of the Batmobile, hoping to gain a least some semblance of his grace back. It was the feeling of his own body turning against him that screwed with his mind. He had always been in control of all his faculties before, so this loss of control, loss of choice was maddening and hurt more than he could’ve expected. He had clearly underestimated Jason’s ability to read him; Jason had been trained by Bruce after all.

Tim didn’t want to think about Bruce, didn’t want to dwell on the bright and blinding grip that grief had on his emotions - it was a private feeling and he had no wish for Jason to see that kind of vulnerability on display. Jason had already seen, and done, for that matter, enough.

Speaking of Jason, he’d long since come to the decision that he’d accommodated Drake enough. Whether the kid was ready or not, he wasn’t going to prolong this any longer.

Little by little, his thrusts began to increase, both in intensity and speed. His breathing turned haggard and his grip tightened as he continuously pulled out, then pushed back in. Soon he lost himself, practically stabbing Tim Drake with his cock as he buried it in as deep as it would go, wholly uncaring of the younger man’s wellbeing.

His hand curled underneath Drake’s stomach and towards his crotch, wrapping itself around the man’s member.

“Still hard, I see,” Jason jeered, giving a firm squeeze. His icy blue eyes narrowed when he noted that Drake wasn’t fully with him, that he was trying to pretend all this away. “Stop that! You do not get to check out mentally!” He snapped, his other hand giving Drake a curt slap. “Look at me while I fuck you, Replacement! Look. At. Me.”

Tim recoiled at both Jason’s touch and the slap he had received. His eyes locked with Jason’s and he immediately wanted to run and hide from the other man’s gaze. Jason’s eyes were so full of rage, wrath unlike anything he had ever seen before. But, more troubling to Tim, was the evidence of Jason’s arousal, his dilated eyes and his open panting mouth.

He felt as Jason’s rhythm changed and how his hips had shifted the angle of his thrusts. He bit his lips hard enough to reopen his split lip from earlier, and he tasted blood at exactly the same time as Jason’s member brushed against his prostate.

He gave a cut off moan as Jason smirked, his hand twisting at the top of Tim’s dick, his fingers becoming slick with precum Tim wished didn’t exist.

How was he ever going to forget about this? He wouldn’t be able to, not with the way Jason’s eyes bored into his, not with how his touch lingered on his skin and made him feel sick yet aroused at the same time. He’d never be able to look at a man again and not see a potential predator, he’d never be able to turn his back and not wonder and worry. And how was he supposed to hold Barbara now, to touch her, without somehow sullying her too?

Satisfied now that Drake was giving him his full attention, Jason continued with his unrelenting assault, showing no mercy to the clearly distressed Boy Wonder.

Making sure to keep on hitting the younger man’s prostate, he bent down and gave him a rough kiss to his forehead before wrapping an arm around Drake’s torso, pulling him as close as he could manage into a bear-hug, one Robin couldn’t escape from, even if he wasn’t currently bound to the Batmobile.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he breathed huskily into his ear, starting to pump Drake’s hardened penis with the same force he was fucking him. “Cum for me, Replacement.”

Tim shook his head, moisture beading at the corners of his eyes, his whole body clenched when the stimulation got too much for him. Pleasure he didn’t want flooded through his body, making him arch into Jason touch. He gave a growl when he orgasmed, his whole body shaking as he came on the Batmobile, his seed painting his stomach and, to his utmost shame, splashing on Jason’s clothes.

His head lolled to the side in mortification, Jason’s gun still hanging from his red stained mouth.

At that moment, Jason started to laugh to himself. At first it was a low hum, the kind that rumbled in the chest, but, steadily, it intensified and grew more unstable until the former Robin was practically gasping for breath because he was laughing so hard. It was nothing short of nightmarish to Tim who, if not for the gun gagging him, would have pointed out to his predecessor that he sounded uncannily like The Joker.

“You made a mess of my outfit, Replacement,” Jason commented, having regained control of himself.

He reached down and fished around the discarded Robin costume until he grabbed a hold of the cape. Then he used it to wipe the spot that had been dirtied by Drake’s cum as well as his dripping hand.

“There, problem solved. Not like you’ll be needing it anymore.”  He chucked the cape away from him, as if it were garbage and then resumed pounding into him furiously.

The pain was more prevalent now, stronger even, without the side effect of pleasure; Tim felt Jason’s muscles tense, more precisely his thighs, before he felt the other man flood his body.

He flinched at the sensation and he knew he’d be showering himself raw tonight (if Jason let him go or if he managed to escape, that is).

Jason slumped against Tim, panting against his neck. His warm breathed irritated his skin, making him feel shivery and sensitive wherever it touched. He gave a yelp of pain as Jason finally pulled out and, looking down; he winced at the sight of blood and semen coating his own thighs.

He looked disgusting, degraded, and dirty. Tim was always going to remember this - the smells, the sights and the sounds of this night. He was going to relieve it in his dreams, and every action he would ever take after today would reflect this moment of his life, at least in some way.

He looked away, his eyes focusing on something distant and far away.

Meanwhile, Jason said nothing, his eyes closed and breathing deeply as he leaned against the Batmobile, coming down from the afterglow. A sheen of sweat coated his lean, muscular body and his black hair was in disarray.

He felt spent, a foreign sensation to him given how he seemed to spend 24/7 plotting and up to something or other. Truth be told, he would have liked nothing more than to have a bed he could just collapse onto right now, and light up a cigarette while he was at it, but unfortunately he still had much to do.

Not sparing the beaten, downtrodden Tim Drake so much as a second glance, he went to gather up his outfit and get redressed.

Once he had, he strode back to his captive, back in Arkham Knight mode. The visor remained up, however. He was in no particular hurry to cover up his face, not when it was just the two of them and the kid already knew who he was.

Jason assessed Tim Drake with an aloof expression, unsympathetic to the younger man’s trauma. He felt no guilt for what he’d just done. Far from it, he felt only satisfaction. He’d done what he set out to do; he’d thoroughly broken and defiled Robin the Boy Wonder. He’d proven loud and clear that he was the one who was now in charge and no one, not Batman, not his sidekick, not anyone could stop him.

The Arkham Knight was the future and, as far as he was concerned, Robin had no place in it. He’d killed him figuratively, now it was time to finish him off literally.

Pulling his gun out of Drake’s mouth, he put the safety off, cocked the pistol, and took aim at the younger man’s head. “Well, Replacement, it’s been fun, but I’m afraid it ends here. Any last words?”

A cold smile spread across Tim’s lips. “Yeah, I’ve got some.” Tim began. “You should’ve looked behind you.”


	4. Chapter 4

A curious frown formed on Jason’s face, confused as to what the other male meant. It didn’t last long as two of Nightwing’s wing-dings flew through the air, one knocking the gun out of Jason’s hand and the other cutting through the grapple that had tied Tim down. Using the surprise attack to his advantage, Tim kicked at Jason, his foot managing to graze his forehead, stunning Jason long enough to move away from him.

Nightwing dropped from the shadows and came to stand in front of Tim, his expression grave as he could clearly see the evidence of what had occurred all over the younger male’s thighs. There was a barely contained fury swirling in Dick’s eyes and Tim felt somewhat comforted by it.

Nightwing moved, as if ready to take Jason on, but Tim placed a hand on his shoulder. “He took out Batman, we can’t take him on, not whilst you’re angry and I’m...compromised.”

It didn’t take long for Jason to recover from the sudden assault launched at him by the duo. It would take far more than that to take him down, not to mention he’d spent months leading up to this night spying on the both of them, studying how they fought as well as their weaknesses. As far as the Arkham Knight was concerned, they were no match for him.  Sliding his visor down so it covered his face, Jason chuckled to himself.

“Well, well, look who it is. The prodigal son, back home in Gotham!” He announced, gesturing derisively at Nightwing. “Was wondering when I'd be seeing you, Grayson. You always keep coming back. I just can't escape you, can I?"

Jason smiled, though it was a strained one that didn’t reach his sharp, blue eyes. He and Nightwing both knew that his words held something of a double meaning, conveying the resentment he’d felt towards his ‘brother’ ever since he took up the mantle of Robin.

He bet his replacement had it far easier than he ever did. If Bruce had even bothered to tell Drake who he was, then he was certain it was only to use him as an example of a cautionary tale. Of a ‘bad Robin’, of a _failure_ . Jason could almost picture it now: “You need to train more, sharpen up your skills. Still, at least you’re far better than the one who came before you. He was a massive _disappointment_.”

The military commander ground his teeth, his hand clenching around the handle of his gun so hard it hurt.

When Bruce had first taken him in, he’d naively thought the man had wanted him to be the son he never had. It was a role Jason had desperately wanted to fulfil, but, eventually, he’d realised how wrong he was. As well as a personal assistant and a child soldier to join his war, Bruce _had_ wanted a son, just not in the way Jason had assumed. He’d wanted a stand-in to fill the void left by Dick Grayson’s departure. If he couldn’t have ‘The First’, the son he loved and wished would return back to his side, then he’d just have to make do with him instead.

When Jason looked back, he remembered the old man making it abundantly obvious that he was comparing him, unfavourably, to Grayson. How he would never be good enough because he was not him. No matter all the things he accomplished, Dick would always be the shadow he could never escape from, the shoes he could never fill. Jason smiled manically. That was then and this was now. He didn’t need or crave Bruce’s approval anymore. Now, he was the Arkham Knight and he knew he was better, badder and cooler than Batman, Nightwing or anyone in Gotham City.

“I see that you’re still at the old man's beck and call, even now that he's dead.” He said, his tone cutting. “I was just about to dispose of my replacement before you got involved where you’re not wanted. I’d prefer to kill him, but, if you want him that much, go ahead, he's all yours. I'm done with him anyway."

Nightwing clenched his fists at his sides, wanting to beat the crap out of the other man. He killed Bruce and he’d hurt Tim. Jason actions were despicable and disgusting, and he wanted to make him pay, but Tim’s hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder stopped him. Dick may have been in a good position to fight, but Tim was in no condition for battle, and they needed to get Bruce’s body back to Alfred.

Much as he hated to admit it, a fight with the Arkham Knight would simply have to wait.

Pressing a few buttons on his gauntlet he managed to remotely access the Batmobile. Using his preprogramed security codes, the vehicle roared to life behind Jason and fired a couple of rounds at him, causing the other man to quickly roll out of the way. The car came careening towards them, and Dick grabbed Tim by the waist, as delicately as he could as to avoid further injuring him, and flipped them into the air as the roof opened up beneath them.

Nightwing sent Jason a final heated glance. “This isn’t over.” He warned him, his tone one of barely suppressed rage.

Undaunted, Jason stood up, dusting off his trousers. “I think you'll find that it is, Grayson.” The blue, robotic eyes of his visor shone through the darkness and glowered in Nightwing’s direction. “Gotham belongs to me now and I want you and _him_ ,” he jerked his head contemptuously at the weak, battered Robin, “out of it. Take Barbara and Alfred with you and leave tonight. Consider yourself warned: Get out and stay out or suffer the consequences.”

“Batman’s dead and tonight marks the dawn of a new era for Gotham City. You're either with me or against me.”

A choked sound of disbelief escaped Nightwing then and he narrowed his eyes at his former, fellow Robin. “My God, Jason, _listen to yourself!_ Look at what you’ve become! This isn’t the Jason Todd I used to know! He’d rather have died than done something like this!” He yelled.

“You killed Bruce. You _raped_ Robin-” He stopped when Tim flinched, visibly distressed to be reminded of the ordeal he’d just endured moments ago. Reaching out to comfort the Boy Wonder, he shook his head, growled, and turned back to face the Arkham Knight, a pained, grief-stricken look now on his face. “How could you do it? How could you do _any_ of this?” He gestured around at the deserted city and the broken bridge. “Look around you, Jason! You think this is justice? You know what I think? That you’ve become everything you ever hated! You’ve turned into a monster!”

Though neither of the men could tell, for a moment Jason stiffened and a look of utter anguish came over his face, as if the gravity of what he’d done had finally hit him and he’d realised how he’d crossed over to what was essentially the point of no return, one he could never come back from. 

However, just as quickly as it came, it went, and he was back to glowering at the duo. It was too late for him. No one could help him now. No point grieving, better to just accept it. “Maybe you're right, Grayson, but the clown made me that way, and Bruce _let_ him. Just like you let him convince you all that I was dead-”

“Bruce was right.” Nightwing interrupted. He had a forlorn smile on his face and, in that moment, he looked tired, older than his years. “Jason Todd did die that day. Maybe not in body, but everything we loved so much about him - what he stood for, how much he cared, his determination - it all died.” His smile turned cold. “You're not Jason, Arkham Knight. You're just the angry, hate-filled, empty shell that was left behind.”

Jason said nothing to that, merely glaring. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing left to say. He was done with them. “This conversation is over. _Go_. Before I change my mind.”

Sparing Jason one last, unreadable, glance, Dick grabbed the Batmobile’s steering wheel and rode off into the night, Tim shaking as he sat atop his lap (they hadn’t had time to get Tim in the back.) It was probably for the best, considering that was where Bruce was.

Tim hands clenched as they held onto Dick’s suit, his knuckles whitening.

“It’s going to be okay.” Dick told him, however his voice sounded unsure even to his own ears. “We can fix this.”

Tim gave a shake of his head; words felt like lead on his tongue and like taffy on his teeth, they wouldn’t leave his mouth no matter how much he tried. Watching as Gotham rushed past the window in abstract blurs the only thing he could do was hope that Dick was right; he _needed_ him to be right.

Finally the car stopped, Wayne Manor looming over them. Behind them, the city was alight with fire, the streets filled with chaos and the future looking grim now that it no longer had the Dark Knight protecting it. 

Things would never be the same again.

* * *

 

Jason watched the Batmobile drive off into the distance until it was but a speck. Only once he’d completely lost sight of it did he turn his attentions to the incoming transmission he was receiving from Deathstroke.

He smiled. Just in time.

He put his fingers to the ears of his helmet so he could talk and relay commands. “Deathstroke, just the man I wanted to talk to.”

"A.K. Word through the grapevine is that Batman is dead and you were the one who killed him. Is this true?” The mercenary questioned him, wasting no time. The man was all business; it was one of the things Jason liked about him.

“I think you already know the answer, to that.” he answered arrogantly.

For a second, there was a silence, and then, “I see… Congratulations, you have my full respect for such a feat.”

“Heh, you don’t _sound_ happy, Deathstroke. Having a change of heart?” Jason ribbed.

“Hardly. While the Bat was a worthy opponent and rival, I am merely disappointed he was defeated by your hand rather than mine. As the world’s greatest assassin, I would very much have liked to have held that accolade. No offence to you, A.K.” Deathstroke replied.

“None taken.”

“So what now? Does this mean my services are no longer required?” The mercenary asked. “You paid me in advance, so I am professionally obligated to aid you in your mission and see it through to the end.”

“Don’t worry, Deathstroke, I have something for you in mind. Remember, Batman may be dead, but his protégés aren’t.”

Jason smirked. He had a feeling tonight wouldn’t be the last he’d see or hear of Nightwing, Robin, or Oracle. Best course of action was to keep Deathstroke around to help him deal with them should - no, _when_ \- they decided to come back for Round Two.

“And for me, I think it’s time I returned to the Headquarters and took out the trash that is the old man’s Rogue Gallery. Talk later. Knight out.” He turned off the transmission.

Jason Todd turned around and marched towards the deserted Gotham, the sounds of gunfire and police sirens ringing out into the night as his militia laid siege to the city Batman had loved so. A city now broken and crushed under his feet.

The Arkham Knight had won. 

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an RP, and it's probably going to cause us to go to hell, but oh well.


End file.
